


dreams come true in blue Hawaii

by theseourbodies



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseourbodies/pseuds/theseourbodies
Summary: Sam and Dean go to Hawaii to solve a problem that requires a "mainland solution."





	1. a moment of sweet aloha

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a little side project to distract me from the fact that I have done absolutely no writing for my actual NaNoWriMo project. Ignores timeline, really, set in an indeterminate earlier season of H5O & no particular season of Supernatural

Despite the horrifically long plane ride he and his brother had had to take; the overall heat this close to the equator; and the fact that they had had to wait a full two days to get started because Bobby’s contact on the island was squirrely as hell and unwilling to provide them with anything until they had had Bobby call him at least half a dozen times, fax two sets of photos for identification, and recite the Lord’s Prayer twice—despite all that, Dean had to admit that Hawai’i was freaking awesome. 

It seemed a little like you weren’t allowed to live on the island without a modeling background; everywhere Dean looked all he saw skin and million dollar smiles spitting the local lingo like second nature. He had known better than to try it himself, despite having picked up a little even in just the two days they’d been staying here; he knew by the geeky, eager look on Sam’s face that Sam wanted to try it out, too, but they both knew how that could get them into trouble—before this job it had been a long few weeks in northern Illinois, trying to figure out why the hell a small town just outside of Joliet was buried under six feet of snow (and climbing) in the middle of October. Any tan that either of them had boasted before then had been long faded by the time they’d found the curse-totem a local coven had carved into the rotting wood of the local history museum and burned the thing. Pale as they were and masquerading as FBI agents to get their guns through the TSA check, there was a real chance no one would take kindly to them trying out some fledgling Pidgin. 

Sam was more than a little miserable in the heat, of course, especially after a week in nearly sub-zero weather. Bobby’s contact was a big guy who kept his hair longer, like Sam’s—once he had triple verified who they were, he had been more than happy to talk and talk and _talk_ to them about any information they would ever possibly need, which had thankfully included some tips on keeping cool; after the two of them had relaxed into the way the sun and the humidity felt this close to the equator, even their stiff FBI suits were easy to walk around in instead of stifling. Bobby’s guy and Sam had holed up in the guy’s basement office to share as much information he could provide on the series of jobs Dean and his brother were here to do. The problem had started in an older part of the city, gone a little to seed now, and it was apparently resistant to whatever island hoodoo the local equivalent of hunters could throw at it, which made it, as Bobby’s contact said, a problem requiring a “mainland solution.”

So yeah, Hawai’i? Freaking awesome once they got used to it. Dean could almost forgive Sam and Bobby essentially tricking him into almost 10 hours on a fucking airplane. 

Bobby’s guy gives them as much as he can, but after a while Sam and Dean just have to go and do their own thing—which is where their FBI suits and badges become necessary. The places where the whatever-it-is has caused problems are apparently now active crime scenes under the direct control of a local task force who—from what Dean has come to understand by the way Jerry, the local papers, and the whole damn island seem to talk about them—consider themselves Big Damn Heroes, and with good damn reason. If Dean is perfectly, perfectly honest with himself, he’s maybe a tiny bit excited to meet them; Sam had certainly gotten excited talking about them on the plan ride over, not that Dean had listened to most of it. 

Trying to tie his tie as neatly as possible before they head out, Dean smirks at his brother.

“You gonna be able to contain yourself, Sammy?”

Sam, whose tie was impeccably tied, the bastard, blushed a little. “Shut up man, you would be excited, too if I hadn’t talked about them first. Just don’t—“

“ _Embarrass_ you?”

“…Shut up, Dean.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers meet the team. Despite being the tallest people in the room, Sam and Dean end up feeling a little like they have stepped among giants.

Sam would like to say that he is a strong man, a brave man. Not much can trip him up.

As he and his brother slam out of the front doors of the government building Bobby’s guy—Jerry—had just called “the Palace”, Sam feels the distinct kind of relief that comes with escaping death. As soon as they’re safely tucked behind one of the big trees in the parking lot, far enough away from prying eyes, Dean lets out an explosive sigh, eyes a little wild when Sam glances over at him. 

“Je _sus_.” Dean mutters, putting a hand over his eyes, “I feel like I should be checking to make sure that dude didn’t _actually_ burn holes into my skin.”

Sam shakes his head, stripping off his jacket. “No blood, Dean,” he says, but his voice is pretty shaky, even to his ears. The fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades is damp and disgusting, but it’s not because of the heat; the building had been pleasantly cool and comfortable. 

When they had told Jerry the plan to approach the task force—“Just call them Five-O, that’s their official designation,” Jerry said—as FBI agents, he had been cautious, more cautious than Sam had felt the plan deserved. Half an hour later, face to face with the stoney-eyed silence of the four-man task force arranged in the middle of their headquarters, Sam had started to understand what a bad idea going in half-cocked had been. 

For one thing, he and Dean had anticipated a much more…traditional office setup, maybe a secretary, _definitely_ some kind of front desk that they could use to build up a story until they were let in to see the actual five-o task force; instead it had just been Sam and Dean striding through the first pair of double doors they had found--directly into what appeared to be a team meeting. All four members of the team had been standing around a table in the center of the room—a room which was, from what Sam could tell, _ninety percent glass_ —and reviewing information on three big screen mounted on an opposite wall. As soon as the doors opened, Sam and his brother had had the team’s complete, if not necessarily friendly, attention. All four of them had stiffened defensively instantly--the woman, Kono Kalakaua, had even rested her hand quickly but casually on the service weapon at her hip. They had all been strapped, even in the middle of their headquarters—handguns sitting heavy on hips and, for almost all of them, the telltale bulge of a backup weapon distorting pant lines. 

Dean, who had gone rigid next to Sam when the two of them had stuttered to a stop just inside the door, had slowly reached for the (fake, but a _good_ fake, hopefully good enough, Sam had thought suddenly) badge in his inside suit pocket. “Stand down, stand down, we’re agents Jenkins and Hendricks, Chicago field office. We talked to a Commander McGarrett on the phone about some crime scenes we need to take a look at.” 

Next to his brother, Sam hadn’t been able to do anything but try to relax, pulling the careful cushion of space up between the two of them like he always did, the one that says ‘no sir, no blood relation here.’ Thankfully, it had worked. Tallest of the group and still a little stiff, Commander McGarrett himself had checked their badges and welcomed them formally to the island with a brisk handshake each. Behind his back, Sam had watched Kalakaua crack her own hardened expression to grin wickedly and mutter something too quiet to hear to the blonde man—Danny Williams—beside her. Chin Ho Kelly, on Williams’ other side, had just covered his mouth casually, hiding a grin.

The whole exchange hadn’t helped the sinking feeling in Sam’s gut, the one that he still felt out here in the bright sunshine. The meeting had been blessedly short, but McGarrett had been brutally direct—as the FBI, Sam and Dean were low on his list of priorities and even lower on his list of favorite people (the second part had just been heavily implied, but still very clear.) He had granted them access though, with the condition that they were accompanied by one of “his people” at all times. Sam had been so grateful that they hadn’t been caught immediately just for how nervous he could tell he and Dean were acting that he had thanked the Commander, resisted the urge to grab his brother and run, and walked as calmly as possible out the glass doors, down the glass hallway, and finally out to freedom. 

Now, the implication of having to do their investigation under the extremely watchful eyes of one of the most decorated police task forces in the country had Sam drooping. Beside him, Dean met his eyes grimly, sweat standing out against his forehead and neck. 

This was going to be harder than they had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is really, really necessary for you all to know (if you don't already) that Scott Caan is 5'5". Jared Padalecki is 6'4".
> 
> It's just, incredibly important.


End file.
